


...And It Won't Happen Again

by xbedhead



Category: The West Wing
Genre: 3-year prelude to a kiss, Canon Compliant, Fluff & Banter, Gen, Post-Episode: s04e15: Inauguration: Over There, there's dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25515817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbedhead/pseuds/xbedhead
Summary: Post-ep following Inauguration 2: Over There."We're going to a ball.""Balls are fun.""We're actually going to eight of 'em."And what they talk about while at the eighth ball.
Relationships: Josh Lyman & Donna Moss
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	...And It Won't Happen Again

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd after sitting, 95% completed on my hard drive for about 6 years.
> 
> I know everyone loves "Wouldn't stop for red lights" and labels it as _the_ defining moment of Josh & Donna's 'relationship.' I love it too. It's ultimate fluff in a series that is pretty light on fluff. But I always refer to "You look _amazing_ " as the Josh equivalent of confessing his love for Donna in the only way that he can. And it's so friggin' adorable - I could watch it over and over again. Plus, it's one of the only times we get an honest-to-God smile out of Richard Schiff throughout the series. 
> 
> If anyone feels like GIF'ing "It's okay, I'm the good cop," I'd love you forever and ever.

They’re dancing to a slow tune by the jazz band – something with bass and the gentle wail of a saxophone. Ball number eight; only a few more minutes and they can punch out for the night.

Donna smiles – he’s staring at her in that funny way he has sometimes, the one that makes her want to forget he’s her boss – and immediately feels self-conscious, pulls her painted lips over her gleaming white teeth. “What?”

Josh shrugs and takes her for an easy spin, her right hand suspended softly in his left. “Nothin’.”

She allows herself to be spun, responding to the gentle tug of his hand on her hip, the press of his chest against hers. “That’s not a ‘nothing face,’ Joshua. _What_?” She says it with conviction. Or what she thinks will pass as conviction when he’s so close and staring right back at her, for once not averting his eyes like he always does.

She sees him swallow with great force, watches his Adam’s apple bounce in his long throat and wishes maybe she hadn’t pressed the issue.

“I…kinda wanted to reiterate what I said to you earlier, but I thought it might be overkill.”

His voice is low, apologetic almost and she takes in the cold smell of the mint gum he’d chewed earlier in the evening; she feels the heat rise to her face. She worries for an instant that her chest is starting to flush, that it will spread to her neck and then her cheeks, so she stops their somehow-waltz and fixes her mouth in a flat line.

“About losing my job? About the president being mad at me?” She’s sighing as she speaks, weary from the last day and a half and sick with herself over what she’d done. “Josh, I know you think I don’t always think things through, but I _really_ …what?”

He’s stopped moving too, has that smirk on his face that he gets all too often with her. He stares at her for a long moment, then tugs on her hip and they start their sway once more.

“That’s…it’s not what I meant.” His throat tries to constrict as he speaks; he’s no longer looking at her, but at the earrings she’d taken great care to match with her dress. She’s glad he’s noticed them – sometimes he can be accused of having decent taste. “You’re right, but…that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

He looks back into her eyes and his voice is steady when he says, “You really do look amazing tonight.”

There’s a heat in his eyes when he speaks, makes them sparkle and light up in the dim ballroom and it’s something she’s never seen happen to him before. “I –”

“Donna, what did you see happening?” he interjects, cutting her off, taking on that high pitch he gets sometimes when he’s borderline frantic. They’re dancing a little faster now and his grip has tightened on her palm, her hip. “You’ve been seeing Jack Reese for, what? _Like two months?_ You were really just gonna…”

“What? I was gonna what?”

“ _Throw your career away for him?_ ” He says it quietly, as if speaking it too loudly may usher it into a reality.

“I wasn’t –”

“ _Yes_. Yes, you _were_ and…”

“And what? What, Josh?”

“…Nothing.” He sighs and deftly moves around an older couple who seems to be dancing to an entirely different tune.

“What were you gonna say?”

“I – nothing, just…promise me you won’t do something like that again.”

“Not even for you?”

“ _Especially_ not for me,” he says solemnly, stopping them once more. He pulls them a few feet to the side, moving them from the way of the throng of dancing couples. “Donna, _I mean it –_ especially not for me. I’d never do something to put you in that position, but…you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. Besides…”

“Besides what?”

“I wouldn’t be taking the fall for you. If you had the heat on you, so would I.” She smiles, her nose crinkling at the thought of them getting caught in a scheme together.

“ _Heat on me_?” he asks, clearly amused. “Donna, you been watching that _NYPD Blue_ box set again?”

Donna gives him a dreamy smile and shrugs her shoulder, giddy all of a sudden as the stress of the day finally slips away. “You know I love me some Bobby Simone.”


End file.
